


Confessions

by f0rever15elf



Series: 2020 December Writing Challenge [12]
Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: Food mention, Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of angst, Other, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, non-descript mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: A handsome prospector works his way into your life and into your heart. Whispered confessions are all you have.
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader, Ezra (Prospect 2018)/You
Series: 2020 December Writing Challenge [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127273
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Confessions

The day that handsome prospector with the blonde patch in his hair sauntered into your life with his honey rich drawl, you knew you were done for. The starlight shine in his playful eyes and the lopsided smile on his lips when he leaned over the bar counter to order his drink from you had you under his spell, hook, line, and sinker. He didn’t stay long, most never do, just long enough for a drink and a few pleasantries before leaving his credits and a handsome tip, off for his next adventure. But in your mind, it’s like he never left, your pretty prospector. 

The next time you saw him, it was at the supermarket. You were off the clock, just doing your casual shopping when you quite literally bumped into him. Steady hands found your shoulders to keep you on your feet, and when you looked up at him, he had the same shine in his eyes and grin on his face. “What a surprise seeing you here. Didn’t think I’d get the chance to be graced by your visage before my next departure.” Your cheeks grew hot as he grinned down at you, your tongue tied with trying to come up with the words to construct a proper response.

“You… wanted to see me again?” you finally managed out. The words sounded clunky, clumsy as they fell from your tongue. Especially in comparison to the elegance with which this prospector spoke.

“Of course. Such an angelic individual as yourself, I would be a fool to not wish to lay eyes on you again.” It was his first confession to you. He lifted his hands from your shoulders then, straightening to his full height in front of you. “Now I am afraid that I don’t have the time for the pleasantries I would normally seek to enjoy with you this time, stardust.” You shivered at the nickname. “I only have the night before I’m back on transport to my next dig.”

“One night is enough.” The words rushed from your lips and drew a pause from the man in front of you, his eyebrow quirked in contemplation.

“Now, you will need to forgive me for my mental faculties are not what they once were. But stardust, that to me sounded like some sort of invitation.” He took a step towards you, looming over you with a borderline terrifying presence, and you knew immediately that this man was dangerous. A snake poised to strike at any moment. It thrilled you.

“It was.”

The words are like the seal to a letter. A stamp solidifying your decision unshakably and before you could think, you were welcoming the wiry prospector into your home, into your bed. Hours were filled with rapture and bliss as you screamed and moaned for him and he waxed poetic over your form as you writhed in his arms in the silver moonlight that painted your bedroom. When you were well and truly spent, you laid in his arms, shimmering in the moonlight and glowing in the wash of passion.

“I don’t want you to go.” Your first confession to him. It was soft and gentle and quivered with such vulnerability. And he didn’t respond, silent by your side. You let the words hang in the air as sleep consumed you.

In the morning, he was gone.

Your third time seeing him was very nearly a year later. You would like to say you had forgotten about him, but that would have been a lie. In fact, he was all you could think about, especially in the quiet hours when all you had were your own thoughts to keep you company. It was a passing glance, this time. Two ships passing in the night. You saw the shuck of blonde hair, the shine in his eyes, and you ran for him. But before you could get to him, he melted into the crowd and was gone. “I want you to come back to me….” Your second confession, spoken to the empty space he once inhabited as the world flowed around you.

When you saw him next, it was once more at work. Late in the evening, just after close as you wiped down the bar and stacked chairs on tables, the door opened. “We’re closed,” you called, not looking up.

“Can you make an exception, stardust?” That drawl lilted through the air and your heart constricted. You looked up to find him there, smiling in the yellowed light of the streetlamps that filtered through your door. It painted his shuck of blonde as spun gold.

“I thought you’d never come back.” The third confession, the culmination of your fears. It tinged his smile with sadness as he made his way towards you, stopping just in front of you but not reaching for you.

“I longed every night for the day I could come back to you, stardust.” His second confession, and it planted him more firmly in your heart. “How disconsolate the nights are away from you.” 

“Do you have more time, this time?”

His hands found their home on your hips and he shook his head with sadness in his eyes. “Just one night. Is it still enough?”

“One night is always enough.” His lips on your own distracted you for a moment from the fact that in the morning you would wake to a cold bed and empty house, but for now, you let yourself be distracted.

“I miss you every day you’re gone, and I don’t even know your name.” A whisper in the dark, same as before. And same as before, he was silent. And same as before, come morning, you were once more alone.

A year passes once again without a visit from the nameless man with the blonde hair, and then two, and you worry if this time he’s truly gone. Your heart aches for a man whose name you don’t even know, a man whom you have come to have feelings for despite your chance encounters. You can only hope Kevva has been merciful to him.

Your final encounter is on your doorstep. In the dark of the night, snow swirling in the air, there is a knock on your door, steady and firm. You slip on your robe to answer the door, and there, painted in the silver of the moonlight is the prospector with blonde in his hair. “You came back.” It’s barely a whisper, a breath of disbelief as you stare up at him. He’s tired, that much you can tell. The bags under his eyes are deep and dark and lacking that playful shine. His lips don’t have that Cheshire smile to them and your worry for him. Your eyes scan his figure, falling on the bunched up sleeve hanging from his right shoulder and you gasp, covering your mouth.

“You are the only place I have to go, stardust.” A whispered confession of a broken man. “I have no home, no family. I am lost. A ship adrift at sea and you are the only harbor I know.” His third confession, warbled and quivering as his left hand clenches at his side. You open your door wider, urging him into the safety of your home and out of the cold of winter. Reaching up, you cup his face in a gentle touch. He’s scruffy, covered in stubble and his hair sticks out in all directions as if it hasn’t seen a comb in days. He looks so lost, so broken. Slowly, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him against you and all his defenses crumble. His left arm wraps around you, clinging to you like his only anchor to reality and he sobs into your neck, trembling in your arms.

“I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.” You try to soothe him, to calm his cries as he convulses under their weight. Slowly you sink to the floor with him, cradling him against you. “I will never leave you. I never want to leave you.” Your final confession in this dance you have done for years now with this nameless prospector.

His cries eventually abate under your gentle touch, his arm still around you as he slumps against you, and for a moment, all is quiet. “I never want to leave you again.” It’s a rasp, thick with his tears and scratchy from his sobs, but it’s sure in its conviction. “My name is Ezra, and I never want to leave you again.”

His final confession.


End file.
